“Well ain’t we steppin’ in high cotton today. We got a pastor and a big time lawyer in our home. Would you gentlemen like a cold glass of water?”
“You’re very kind to offer, but I need to get Mr. Toliver through our neighborhood as quickly as possible. So, if you don’t mind. We’d just like to see the house and get going to the next.”
“All right, Pastor. Well let’s get started,” she said as she began to slowly move away from the door.
“Where is your husband?” Landon asked.
“Oh, James went down to the church to stand in the bread line. He hates doing it, but he lost that good factory job a month ago, and well,” she hunched her shoulders as she said, “we still got to eat.”
Landon put his hand on Mrs. Flowers’s shoulder. “My church has been putting together food baskets for displaced workers. I’ll make sure you get one of those packages this week.”
Her eyes got misty as she said, “Thank you, Pastor, we sure can use it.” As she began walking through the house, she added, “James and I have worked nearly ’bout all of our lives. We ain’t never asked nobody for nothing. But this here depression has hit us hard.”
“You’re not alone there, Mrs. Flowers. About fifty percent of the colored population lost their jobs due to this depression. But I believe that things are about to turn around. We’re only a few short years from 1940. Going into a new decade has to be a sign of things turning around for us,” Landon said with hope in his heart and conviction in his voice.
They walked through the house as Mrs. Flowers showed them holes in the floor as the floorboards had rotted out. There were buckets of water on the floor in the living room, kitchen, and both bedrooms. Mrs. Flowers said that the buckets were there to catch the rain from the leaking roof. There was another bucket underneath the sink. The pipes were leaking.
After stepping over buckets and holes in the floor, Toliver turned to Mrs. Flowers and asked, “How long have you lived here?”
“We were in a boardinghouse the first three years after we arrived in Chicago, but we’ve been in this house for two years come this spring.”
Toliver’s mouth hung open. When he regained his voice he said, “You’ve been in this house less than two years, and you have all these problems?”
“The previous tenants let me keep their buckets. The roof has been leaking for a while now, but the owner won’t fix it. But believe it or not, we’re the lucky ones.”
“Why would you say that?” Landon asked, wondering why anyone who’d been forced to live in such conditions would consider themselves lucky.
“We have running water and plumbing,” Mrs. Flowers told them matter-of-factly.
As they toured some of the other homes they discovered that it was exactly as Mrs. Flowers had said. Many of the residents of the Black Belt had no running water or plumbing. They were forced to do their business outside. After touring about five homes and viewing the conditions on the outside of the homes, Landon figured William Toliver had seen enough. “Let’s head back to my office.”
Once they were seated in Landon’s office, Toliver said, “Okay, I see that the conditions are bad. I’m used to seeing homes in such poor conditions in the South, but I honestly thought you all had it so much better.”
“Some of us do. There are homes in the Black Belt that are in good condition and well maintained, but those are few and far between. We have about eight or ten people per household and that’s fine for the citizens who can do no better. We’re not asking the government for a handout. What I want is to be able to get decent housing for families who will be able to afford the homes and maintain them.”
“And you’ve already tried this with one couple?”
“That’s correct. They are the reason I need help from the NAACP. The Barnes family has the perfect case to bring to trial. They are educated, with good jobs and money in the bank. They saved for years to be able to buy a home. They hoped that by the time they had enough money to purchase a home that things would be different and they wouldn’t be forced to buy a home in the already overcrowded Black Belt.”
“But the home owner refused to sell to them because they’re colored,” Toliver finished Landon’s statement for him.
“Yes. So, what do you think? Can you help us?”
Toliver leaned back in his seat and rubbed his chin as he pondered the situation. He then leaned forward and said, “I’ll tell you what. If you can get me at least ten cases like this, I might be able to convince Mr. Houston to go to trial.”
“Here’s the thing, Mr. Toliver, I’m just not sure if I can come up with ten eligible couples who have saved enough money to purchase a home.”
“There has to be nine other credit-worthy people in this town with good jobs. You’ll just have to find them.”
“And what if I can’t?” Landon asked as if he was Abraham pleading with God about his ability to find ten righteous people in Sodom and Gomorrah.
Toliver stood up and put his hat back on. “You have to. This place is still considered the Promised Land by most colored southerners. So, if I’m going to convince the NAACP to exhaust our resources on a Chicago case, we have to have ample proof of discrimination.”
Landon stood up and walked Toliver out. When they were at the front door of the church, Landon shook the man’s hand. “I thank you for your time. I hope to see you again real soon.”
“You get us some more qualified couples who’ve been refused housing outside of the Black Belt and we will go to bat for you.”
As Landon stood at the door watching Toliver walk away, his shoulders slumped with the knowledge that it would probably take him years to find nine more qualified colored people.
“What’s wrong with you? I thought the meeting was going good.” Nettie asked as she walked up behind him.
“He wants me to find several more qualified cases before we move to trial.”
“So, I ask again, what’s wrong?” Nettie didn’t understand why Landon seemed so dejected.
Landon had never discussed his personal life with Nettie and didn’t feel comfortable doing so now, but he really needed to unburden himself. He turned to her and said, “I had planned to leave town after my meeting with Mr. Toliver. I have a good friend who needs me. But now I feel as if I will be letting so many people down if I leave at a time when there is still so much to be done.”
“Well, we already have one couple. The Barnses are perfect. So, all we need to do is find a few more.”
“Nine more,” Landon corrected her.
“Okay, well then we’ll find nine more people interested in home ownership. That shouldn’t be too hard to do,” Nettie said with her normal eager-beaver attitude.
But Landon wasn’t catching her fever this time. He told her, “We’re in the middle of the worst depression this country has ever seen. It won’t be so easy to find nine gainfully employed colored people with enough money saved to purchase a home.” He rubbed his temples as he said more to himself than anyone else, “I really need to go see about Shar.”
Nettie put a hand on Landon’s shoulder. She gave him her best I’m-here-for-you smile as she said, “If you don’t mind me saying so, Pastor Landon, you simply can’t be all things to all people. Now we have babies dying at a higher rate on our side of town than any other part of this city because of the poor conditions they live in. We need to get as many people out of here as possible. Then once this area isn’t so crowded, we can get it cleaned up for the remaining residents.”
Landon knew Nettie was right. He had a duty to this community. What he was doing would save lives. He just felt so bad about letting Shar down. He knew she wanted to see him, but she would have to be content with receiving another letter from him for now. Landon was on a mission from God and couldn’t turn back now, not even for love. He just hoped that Shar would be patient with him.
11
Shar could hardly believe how things had changed. Ever since the night that Mahalia couldn’t make it to Tennessee
, Shar had been leading Mr. Dorsey’s songs at every event. And then she would come out to the fellowship hall and sell the sheet music like nobody’s business. Shar was actually happy again and enjoying the tour as she hadn’t before. In truth, though, she didn’t think her newfound enjoyment had much to do with the fact that she was leading songs, but more to do with the fact that Nicoli was now on the tour and putting a smile on her face.
Shar turned from her seat in the choir stand and looked back to where Nicoli was standing, strumming his guitar and looking every bit like the music man he was born to be.
“If you don’t concentrate on this song and stop staring at that man, Mr. Dorsey is going to throw you out of the choir,” Emma Jean warned as she nudged Shar with her elbow.
They were singing “Old Ship of Zion.” Sallie was the lead on the song, so all Shar had to do was to sing the backup with the choir. It was one of those repetitive songs, so it wasn’t hard to keep track, even though her mind was somewhere else.
Sallie sang, “I got on board early one morning . . . I got on board.”
And then the choir sang, “It’s the old ship of Zion. It’s the old ship of Zion. It’s the old ship of Zion.”
Sallie sang, “I got on board early one morning . . . I got on board.”
And then the choir sang, “Ain’t no danger in the water. Ain’t no danger in the water. Ain’t no danger in the water.”
Mr. Dorsey banged on the piano and Nicoli played his guitar like a man with a story to tell, then Sallie took off. She talked to the audience, engaged them in the story while the congregation got happy. They stood up and clapped their hands. Shar forgot about everything but the anointing that was flowing through the room. She got so happy, she started shouting in the choir stand.
When service was over Shar found herself selling nothing but “Old Ship of Zion.” Sallie put her foot in that song, and Nicoli’s guitar-playing took it to another level. Musicians rushed to buy the sheet music because they thought they’d be able to recreate what just happened in service at their own church. But there was only one Sallie Martin. And there definitely was only one Nicoli James.
“How much longer do you have to sell this stuff?” Nicoli asked as he came up behind her.
Shar jumped. She hadn’t seen Nicoli and thought he was outside, doing whatever he did behind church buildings. “You scared me, you sneak.”
He grabbed her hand. “Go for a walk with me?” Nicoli asked.
“I can’t. I have to do my job.” Shar pulled her hand away and looked around the room, making sure that no one was watching them.
“From what I hear, they only pay you two dollars a week, while Sallie is already up to about ten dollars a week.”
“Sallie does a whole lot more for Mr. Dorsey than I do. I’m grateful that I am making anything at all. I need the money to send back to my parents.”
Nicoli’s eyes bugged out of his head as he asked, “You’re doing all this work and you don’t even get to keep the money?”
Shar shook her head as she turned to a customer and sold another copy of “Old Ship of Zion.” When she turned back to Nicoli she said, “My mama has tuberculosis. She needs medicine. What’s left over helps with the bills.”
“Nicoli James, if you don’t leave that gal alone so she can sell that sheet music, I’m gon’ skin you alive,” Sallie barked as she pulled Nicoli away from Shar.
Shar giggled as she watched Nicoli being hauled away by the very forceful Mrs. Sallie Martin. She then got back to the business of selling the sheet music. By the time she had finished and everyone had left the church, Shar had sold a hundred sheets of music. Seventy of those had been “Old Ship of Zion.”
When they arrived at the boardinghouse they were staying at for the night, the woman informed them that she only had two beds left. So, the women shared the beds, while the men were stuck sleeping on the bus. This was the part of touring that Shar didn’t like. The uncertainty of where she would lay her head made her ill at times. She knew for certain that if Nicoli hadn’t joined the tour when he had, she would have gone back home by now.
After dinner, Shar, Emma Jean, and a few other choir members sat in the parlor practicing some of their songs. When they finished practicing, everyone left the parlor except Shar, Geraldine, and Emma Jean. The three of them stayed so they could gossip and giggle.
In the midst of giggling over a crack Geraldine had made about Sallie Martin, Emma Jean spilled her lemonade on her blouse. She and Geraldine then went upstairs so that Emma Jean could change.
That’s when Nicoli approached Shar again and asked, “You want to take that walk now?”
“We don’t know anything about this area.”
“If you’ve seen one colored neighborhood, you’ve seen them all. And besides, I’m about to go crazy just sitting around here.”
Hesitantly, Shar said, “I don’t know. Mr. Dorsey don’t like for us to go off on our own.”
“Girl, you sound like a broken record. Every time I talk to you, you always telling me what Mr. Dorsey or Mrs. Sallie said.” He shook his head as if he was disappointed in her. “I’m gon’ have to leave you alone and find myself a real woman.” He started to walk away.
Shar put her hand on his shoulder. “Wait. Don’t be like that. I’m twenty years old, so I am a woman. I just don’t want to get into no trouble.”
“How you gon’ get in trouble when you’re with me?” As Nicoli said these words he puffed out his chest like he was a big bad kind of man that didn’t nobody mess with.
“Oh, so I guess you’re not afraid of nothing?” Emma Jean asked with challenge in her voice as she walked back into the room.
He turned to face her and said, “I’m not afraid of you.”
Emma Jean put her hands on her hips and let her backbone slip as she swayed her ample hips from side to side. “I don’t think you’re afraid of me at all, Nicoli James. You just don’t know how to handle a woman like me.”
What was Emma Jean doing? Shar watched the woman shamelessly flirt with Nicoli. She had half a mind to tell Emma Jean how ridiculous she looked, flirting with a man who wasn’t even thinking about her. But Shar glanced over at Nicoli, and he seemed more interested than she expected.
“Shar is the only scaredy cat in here. I’ve been trying to get her to take a walk with me, but she won’t do it.” Nicoli turned toward Shar as he asked Emma Jean, “What about you, Emma? Are you afraid to take a walk with me?”
Emma Jean strutted over to Nicoli and hooked her arm in his. “I sure am not. Let’s go.”
Shar hadn’t spoken to Nicoli or Emma Jean since the day they walked out of the boardinghouse together. But it wasn’t as if Emma Jean cared. She had been whispering behind Shar’s back all week, telling everybody about how she stole Nicoli away from Shar. Truth be told, Shar was mortified. Nicoli had taken her mind off of Landon and the fact that she hadn’t heard from him in over a month.
But now Nicoli had abandoned her, just like Landon had. Shar began to wonder if her lack of male companionship meant that something was wrong with her.
“Why in the world are you walking around here looking so down in the mouth?” Sallie asked Shar as they pulled up to the church they would be performing at that day. “You’ve been begging for your opportunity to lead some songs for over a year. Now that you’re leading songs, you seem just as miserable as you were before.”
Shar walked off the bus with Sallie. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Sallie. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“Well, you better get it off your mind, if you want to keep leading these songs.”
“What does the way I’m feeling have to do with my singing?” Shar protested.
“These congregations we sing to ain’t no dummies. They can feel your mood. So, if you’re depressed while singing a praise song . . . instead of uplifting their spirits, you’re just going to depress the people. And if they’re depressed, they sure won’t be buying no sheet music.”
When Shar first began leading song
s, the sheet music was selling like ice water on a hot summer day. But once Emma Jean started messing with her, Shar noticed that the sheet music for the songs she led hardly sold at all. She had lost her inspiration and that was all there was to it. As the choir members walked into the church, Shar hung back. “I need to go pray, Mrs. Sallie. I’ll catch up with you all in a minute.”
On the side of the church building, there was a concrete bench. Shar sat down on it and looked heavenward. She desperately needed to feel God’s love right here and right now. Landon Norstrom had given up on her, even though he’d pledged to love her for a lifetime. And more recently, Nicoli James had also walked away from her so that he could be with someone more adventurous. Shar just didn’t know what was wrong with her. Her mama and dad had always said that she was the prettiest girl this side of New Orleans, but maybe men needed more than a pretty face.
Shar just didn’t know what she was missing, or if she even needed to be concerned with stuff like that. So, with her head lifted she said, “Lord, I’m so confused. I feel like I’m letting You down. I’m supposed to be singing to glorify You, but I just keep thinking about my problems. I want things that I can’t have, and I just need to get over it and go sing with an uplifted heart.”
She took a deep breath as she tried to get her body to line up with what she knew was right. She was there to sing and to send money back home . . . not to go on walks and sit up all night talking her head off with some gorgeous guy who wasn’t thinking about her two minutes after he left her presence. “Thank you, Lord, for helping me see the light. I know what I have to do. So, I’m gon’ head on into this church to sing for Your glory.”
She stood up, and as she turned around to head inside the church, she came face to face with Nicoli James. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know anyone else was back here,” she said as she stepped around him.
How Sweet the Sound Page 8